He registered the combativeness, and some of what lay behind it. Knew her panties were getting damp. Knew it would be a battle, but one worth winning....Damn, who did she think he was, anyway? He was offering her a job, and a damn good one. Fuck the job, anyway. The bottle emptied, and a second one followed it. He started telling travellers’ tales and stopped himself. Started to ask why she wasn’t married and stopped himself. Remembered to ask about her work. At least he didn’t ask why I’m not. Slowly I eased the lovely little garment down for her to step out of it and then kissed her naked sex."Ooh! Thomas," she moaned and pushed her groin into my face. I smelled the strawberry even over the natural aroma of her soaking pussy."Does it smell nice?" she sounded like a nervous teenager, but instead of answering, I licked deeply within her slit and lifted one leg up over my shoulder to lick in and around her sweet little anus."Ooh you dirty man," she smiled. "Dirty dirty man."Pulling. I slowly started stroking the underside with my middle finger, then gently carressed the knob, leaving only one thing to do.I started to recall an evening some years ago in a London tranny club called the Philbeach Hotel in Earl's Court, where Monday was the evening when gurls could dress and be themselves, discreetly and safely, otherwise it was a gay venue.At the end of the night, there was a party in one room, which I went to along with Michelle, a girl that I had real affection for and had. I was not certain that was so.I didn’t break it off with Olive, though. I really did like her. She was smart and fun to be with. We shared a lot of the same interests and values, at least outside of unconscious sex. And I cared about her, too. Her brother had died a few months earlier when he was only thirty-four. She was three years younger and had had a hard time picking up her life. That’s how we met. She’d started playing racquetball at the same club I attend, and we’d been matched up to.
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